


Arthur x Van Der Linde Gang

by HowdyBabes



Category: Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: Gay, I REFUSE TO WRITE ABOUT MICAH, M/M, NO rape, fight me, give me time I’m slow, no bdsm, one shots, very smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-18 20:11:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19341769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowdyBabes/pseuds/HowdyBabes
Summary: I’ll write sad things, lots of B A D things, and most of all poorly done smut.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a ton of oneshots, don’t expect too much. I’m bad at this. Fight me. REQUESTS OPEN PLEASE HELP.

It was hot, painfully hot. My thin cotton shirt was sticking to my damp skin. I groaned softly and tried to get more comfortable. The ground felt entirely too hot beneath my skin. 

I sat up, and ran a hand through my mop of black hair. Sweat and grease leaving my hand feeling oily. I shuffled about slightly and let my thoughts wander. 

While Rhodes was a beautiful place to stay. Water beside the camp for the horses to drink and for me to take the odd fishing trip. The nights in Rhodes, however, were ridiculous. Most everyone in camp had striped to the bare minimum during nights like this, I felt bad for the women. Mrs. Grimshaw insisted they look presentable at all times, meaning they were clothed in thick dresses no matter the weather. 

During nights like this I would remove my jacket, hat, neckerchief, boots, and anything else I could spare. Others such as Hosea and Herr Straus, rolled up sleeves and dealt with the horrid temperatures.  
But...  
Then there was Arthur.  
Arthur did about the same as me. Stripping off his vest, placing his gambler hat on his might stand and kicking off his heavy boots. Except, Arthur went one step further. He would remove his shirt.

Which to many others around the camp might not have seemed like anything different, after all he only did it before going to bed, and he wasn’t the only one who slept shirtless.

Me, on the other hand, I could hardly contain myself. Whenever I heard that man ride into camp, it felt like my skin was on fire. He and I had become closer, since I’d saved his life at six point cabin. We talked softly in the evenings, about nothing usually. The occasionally touch of his hand, and endearing looks drove me near insane. I would watch him, and more often then not, not get caught doing so. One perk of being the outcast of the gang. I had more than just that as an advantage, I could easily slip in amongst the horses in the woods, and if I acted like I was finishing up some chores before heading to bed, I had the perfect view.

Arthur Morgan was a modest man, and Rhodes was the first time he had ever dropped a curtain to hide himself in his tent. I found that in the patch of trees where the horses grazed, there was a sliver of a view. If one waited, they could catch Arthur in the act of painfully slowly unbottoning his shirt, pulling it off his unevenly tanned skin, sliding the fabric off his broad shoulders and tossing it aside. Arthur has the most delightful look about him, hairy but not too much and wide shoulders that came to a perfect thin waist. I practically drooled thinking about it. 

I was ripped from my cheery thoughts as approaching steps sounded behind me.  
“O’driscoll.” The voice whispered, I nearly jumped out of my skin.  
“I-I ain’t no-no O’driscoll, Arthur-sir.” I mumbled, and opened my eyes, it was still just as dark as it had been before I had gotten lost in thought.  
“It’s not light yet sir, what-what do you need?” I whispered towards, where I assumed, Arthur was standing. I was horribly mistaken, next thing I knew there was a hand covering my mouth.  
“I just, need to borrow you for a second. Don’t you even think, about saying something and wakin’ up the whole camp, y’hear?” Arthur growled, there was a shiver of fear and… something else up my spine. I nodded and the hand released my mouth.  
“Good, now follow me.” He grumbled out, nearly silently. Soon a hand was pinching the edge of my shirt, and tugging me along. I on one hand was grateful, my vision hadn’t been too good in dark, but on the other I wished he’d grabbed my hand in place of my shirt. 

My eyes adjusted quickly as we reached the harsh light of the lamps in camp. Arthur continued to drag me over to his tent. I won’t be too hasty to admit I let a glimmer of excitement pass my mind. Arthur pulled me inside his tent, and let go of my shirt.  
“Stand just so.” He said and gruffly turned my being towards the corner.  
“Now don’t move.” I opened my mouth in protest but he was already outside. My eyes quickly met the various items in Arthur’s tent. Horseshoe, scrap of newspaper, a little flower in a jar, and a handful of other things. 

It seemed only a moment later when I heard footsteps returning to the tent. I felt my shoulders jump as Arthur entered.  
“Charles was right.” He said more to himself than to me.  
“Right-right-right about what?” I whispered. His gaze met my own. His eyes were gorgeous, blue with freckles of green and gold, I could’ve drowned in those eyes.  
“You have been peeping on me.”  
I felt my heart stop in my chest.  
“I-I-I-I have not-not-not been Arthur sir-sir.” I stuttered out, had the lighting been slightly better it would have been painfully obvious my entire head was cherry red.  
“Have too, Charles told me every night you go and stand by that tree there. Pretendin’ to do something or other.”  
“No-No!”  
“Yes-yes! I have caught you, O’driscoll boy, peepin’ on me!” Arthur said just a bit too loud, I slammed my mouth shut and looked away nervously.  
“I-I-I ain’t no O’driscoll.” I mumbled quietly, I rubbed the back of my wrist, Arthur’s gaze barreled into my face.  
“I’m-I’m sorry I won’t-won’t do it no more.” I turned to leave, aware of how painfully awkward it was standing in the tiny area with Arthur. 

I managed one step before a hand clamped over my mouth and another around my wrist. I began to struggle, praying that Arthur wouldn’t kill me then and there for my sins. Prickles of fear ran up my spine, my eyes began to water. 

Arthur’s hot breath next to my ear stopped my movement.  
“You listen O’driscoll, I catch you sneakin’ about again and I won’t be so nice.” Arthur pulled his hand from my mouth and caught my other wrist. I was forcefully turned to face him.  
“You want to see whatever crazy thing you were looking at, just come sit, don’t need the whole camp knowing you’re a peeper.”  
“I am sorry sir-sir I- wait-wait come sit-sit?” I croaked my voice seemed to have forgotten how to speak.  
“You-you mean…?”  
“Yes, you’re as dumb as Marston, come sit in here I don’t need anyone else catching you, the whole camp’ll riot.” My mouth gaped, Arthur Morgan, the third in command in the Van Der Linde gang was openly inviting me to watch him. It felt like Christmas, scariest Christmas I’ve ever seen.  
“But-But-,” I started, Arthur shuffled his hands, both my wrists were trapped together in one now, and his other hand was once again, covering my mouth.  
“You talk too much, shut yer trap, or I’ll put it to better use.” I nearly melted, I was confused in a number ways and excited in more.  
“Sorry sir-sir.” I managed to squeak out from behind the thick hand over my lips.  
Arthur rolled his eyes, his eyebrows coming together, frustrated.  
“Stop callin’ me that, it’s Arthur.” He growled, I felt my back start to sweat. He was close enough to me, every word he said I could feel his hot breath, making my face and Adam’s apple moistened. I nodded, and once again tried to speak.  
“You never know when to shut up, do ya O’driscoll?” I gave my best attempt at a glare. Arthur returned the look, my eyes widened, fearing I’d done something wrong, but then a grin cracked on Arthur’s face. He began to chuckle and took his hand off my mouth to cover his own. I felt my already blushing face heat up yet again. His small grin quickly disappeared and he became serious. His ocean-like eyes stared into my own dark orbs.  
“Ah hell.” He mumbled, before I had time to process his lips were on mine. They were rough, and dry, his arm wrapped around my back pulling me tighter towards himself. I froze, and felt my shoulders begin to shake.  
Arthur pulled away slightly, he smelled like cigars and lye soap.  
“Kieran…” he whispered, barely audible even to me. My mouth once again fell open, nothing came out. My eyes were glued to Arthur’s face. It seemed the lighting had become a little better, Arthur’s cheeks had been dyed red.  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean no-,” Arthur started, pushing me away slightly and releasing my wrists, it was my turn to move. I quickly shot my hands to his face, pulling it back towards mine. I met his lips once more.  
The kiss prior had been nervous and fragile, this one was hungry. Much less a gentle peck, more movement and tangling.  
Arthur’s mouth tasted faintly like brandy, and salt. I wanted nothing more than to devour him, my back straightened for what felt like the first time in months, I was surprised. I was taller than Arthur. I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck, and entangled it in the slight sandy curls resting there. He followed suite, pulling one of his muscular arms around the small of my back, and the other pressed gently against my wiry shoulders.  
Sadly a moment later I had to release him, he held just as tightly to me.  
“Kieran…” his voice had lowered, become slightly more gravelly. Even more frightened excitement shot to my nether regions.  
“Would you like to…?” I raised an eyebrow in slight confusion, I was answered by his palm rubbing against my crotch. It was then I realized I was half hard, almost uncomfortable in my britches. I couldn’t stop a soft moan from escaping my mouth, my back arched slightly into his touch.  
“I suppose that answers that…” Arthur chuckled, his hand lifted, I felt a twinge of disappointment at the loss of contact. Though not a moment had passed and Arthur’s lips were once again hot and heavy against my own. His arm dropped from behind me, to grip my hand. He managed to get one of his boots on, scarcely stopping for breath, before we were on horseback. We shared Arthur’s horse, snowy white Arabian named, “(insert horse name).” She was strong and fast unlike Branwen, who was a perfectly good horse but the weight of two people would have done a number on her aging back. 

We rode for nearly half an hour before Arthur declared a spot good enough, we quickly pitched a tent. We shut ourselves inside, Arthur’s lips once again slammed into mine.  
This kiss was needy and wet, our teeth clanking against one another, tongues and spit exchanging between each others mouths.  
“Arthur-Ar-Arthur.” I whispered, this brought a temporary end to the sloppy kissing.  
“I want- I mean- Could we-,” I was interrupted once again, Arthur placed his lips against my throat. I let out an almost choked noise.  
“What were you sayin’ there, Kieran?” Arthur’s voice was low.  
“I-I-I would like-,” his tongue traced up the tendon on my neck, then down to my collar bone. I groaned, but cut myself short, Arthur was always telling me to shut up, I didn’t want to ruin my chances now. Arthur’s scruffy chin and hot tongue was instantly removed from my skin.  
“Kieran, I want to hear you.” He said suddenly.  
“What- what?”  
“Don’t stop yourself, Kieran, let me hear you.”  
“I’m-I’m sorry-,” I was ashamed but not for long, Arthur shifted himself on top of me, and slid one of his legs between my own, gracing my member with glorious friction. I whimpered at the touch, this made a smirk return to Arthur’s face. He briefly rested against one of my thin legs, his member was just as hard if not harder than mine. He hissed and bucked slightly, before leaning forward to give me attention.  
I glanced up towards his eyes, then down at his beautiful being. His face and hair were a mess. Lips puffy and wet from violent kissing, his hair had been tangled between my fingers and was a disaster. He was still shirtless, skin slightly tacky with sweat. I lifted my hands to caress him, he moved away.  
“Kieran I-,”  
“Arthur please.” The older man, searched my eyes for answers, before nodding and allowing me to continue. I dragged my stumpy nails through the fine hair on his chest, before reaching to gently prod one of his slight pink nipples.  
“You’re the-the-the most beautiful-,”  
“Kieran,” he shut me up with a single word. He placed a hand on the front of my britches. And inched my shirt upwards. The fabric was moist from my sweat. The feeling was strange unlike anything I’d ever experienced up to that point, I wanted, no, NEEDED more.  
“Arthur please just-just-just go faster.” I grumbled out, Arthur’s face lit up with a grin.  
“What was that Kieran?” He said, his hand froze, so close to reaching my near trembling heart. I whimpered, and rocked my hips into his thigh, upon realizing he pressed his leg harder. My member was pinned, fully erect, and angry from lack of touch. I moaned, loudly. Arthur focused once more upon my shirt, finally pulling it over my head. The thick air did close to nothing for my overheating chest.  
I hated the way I looked. Pale and near hairless, my thick ribs stuck out dramatically far, though I had been able to begin eating, having been freed from my tree prison. My arms left their resting place, slotted on Arthur’s wonderful hips, just above his muscular buttocks. They quickly moved to hide, at least shield part of the view of my chest. Arthur’s brow furrowed, I was sure he would hate the sight just as much as I did.  
“You-you-you won’t like-like it.” I whispered, and dug my fingers into the slots between my ribs.  
“Kieran… please.” Arthur mumbled, so softly I barely heard it. That was the first he’d ever asked anything of me, nicely. I hesitated, but slowly lowered my arms to my side, Arthur sat back to admire me, his member pressed once again against my leg. I couldn’t bring myself to gaze up at him, and turned my head sharply away. Arthur’s gaze practically burnt my skin, before settling upon my face. One of his hands deftly grazed my skin, tracing the divots of my ribcage, and resting just below my chin. Gently he moved my head to face him, hot tears of embarrassment leaked from his eyes.  
“Kieran.” His voice was grizzly, he leaned down and pressed his lips to line once more. This kiss was full of love, soft and sweet, I melted at every tender touch and caress, no matter where he touched.  
“Arthur I-I need-,” I whimpered rocking my hips to meet his, his eyes closed at the feeling.  
“You.. Please just-,” I was never given the opportunity to finish my sentence, Arthur was upon me. His corse lips grazed my sensitive pinks nubs, I whined and arched my back. His tongue swirled around them, before once again slowly dragging onwards. He shuffled about, moving to make my legs fall on either side of him.  
I whimpered when he finally reached the patch of delicate hairs just below my stomach. His roughly shaven face nuzzled the spot, he mouthed me through my britches, I cried out at the sudden contact. He didn’t stop, he tongue wetting my jeans, though there was already a damp spot of precum.  
“May I?” Arthur drawled, I nearly choked, he had gently bitten down against my tip, teasing me through the fabric.  
“Pl-pl-please!” I wailed out, Arthur unceremoniously unbuttoned and tore down my pants. I sat up to do the same to him. We managed to shake off our last articles of clothing before we were on each other once again. Arthur adjusted my legs to wrap around either side of him. His hot member pressing against my own, we groaned in unison at the stimulation. Two of Arthur’s finger were pressed gently against my lips, I gazed towards him, his eyes reflected the hunger in my own. I opened my mouth and began to suck the digits. Coating them in saliva, as Arthur’s spare hand wrapped around both of our cocks.  
He finally pulled the fingers from my quivering mouth, he played with the fine trail of spit between them before bringing them to my nether regions.  
The first finger entered, with surprising ease. This was not the first time I’d been with a man, this was also not the first time something had gone up my ass. I often pleasured myself, but the feeling of Arthur’s thick digits, was nothing like my own.  
The finger slowly pulled out, only to be shoved in deeper than before. A low whine left my trembling lips, a plea for him to pick up the pace. He got the message and lodged the other finger inside. He began to scissor and stretch my hole, gaining bountiful cries and pleasured squeals from me.  
“Kieran…” Arthur’s eyes met my own once more, I was surprised to see gentle tears falling from his eyes. It was then I glanced to his member, rock hard, throbbing like my own, but large much larger than mine. His tears were from lack of stimulation, time to change that.  
“Arthur please-please fuck me.” I didn’t give him time to answer I locked our lips and rocked my hips downwards. This seemed to break him out of a trance. Before I knew it, his mouth was crushing into mine, and the tip of his thick cock was pressing inside me. The hot head pressed through my ring of muscle and the rest of his dick slid in easily, he must’ve used spit or lube to slicken it prior.  
He slammed his dick fully inside, my near silent stream of noises grew to full moans of joy. Begging Arthur not to stop, my vision was white my back arched to meet every impact the man provided. One of his sporadic thrusts hit a bundle of nerves against one of my walls.  
“Arthur!” I wailed, locking my legs behind him and guiding him back to the spot. He understood and pounded against it.  
I had little time to realize my limit was approaching quickly, as was his, his thrusts becoming quicker and more sloppy.  
“K-Kieran!!” His deep voice called my name, hot seed spilled within me, sweat and tears rolled down my face. Only a moment later and my own white seed coated down both our chests.  
Arthur slowly pulled out of me, I whimpered gently at the loss. The larger man snagged one of our articles of clothing and used it to wipe some of the sticky cum from our chests. Once he finished, Arthur hoisted himself upwards towards me, and softly lay beside me. His brilliant eyes closed, but one of his thick arms wrapped around the small of my back, one finger lazily traced circles there.  
My eyes too, closed and it seemed only a moment later the sun was seeping through the fabric of the tent. The air smelt stale and was heavy in my lungs. I cracked open an eye to see Arthur’s deep orbs staring back.  
“Good-good-good morning.”  
“Morning…” he yawned, my hands softly stroked his broad chest, our legs locked together.  
“So you gonna quit peepin’ on me?” Arthur chuckled, I felt the blood rush to my ears.  
“Only if it means we do this again.” I smirked, Arthur let out a sobered laugh.  
“There’s nothing in the world I’d want more.”

Yeetus deletus


	2. Arthur Dies John is not okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is dead, John is sad, I was sad so I wrote this hopefully you like it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy babes, I was sad so I made this enjoy.

Tipptappy Arthur Morgan day up in a cold sweat, his nightmares were becoming worse with each passing night. In his feverish state, images of the gang being tortured and beaten, each face bloody and sunken flashed beneath his eyelids. Something dark within him convinced him it was his fault, his brain and heart sought to help them, reach them and stop the pain somehow. Dark hands and arms clutched his arms and throat, he ripped them from his being.  
This meant, even though he was weakened with sickness, there was always at least one person by his side to push him back down after he sat up throwing fists. The only exceptions were the women, minus Sadie, little jack, and Herr Strauss. All of which were not strong enough to hold Arthur back.  
Arthur has been sick for nearly two weeks, for days many thought he was not going to survive until morning. Dutch, Hosea, and especially John did not give up hope. They insisted his wavierinf pulse was merely a mistake, that his weak gasping breaths were a sign he wouldn’t lose this fight.  
Though Arthur’s condition was only growing worse, sweat poured from his forehead, and any food or water given would only end up coming back up. His once tanned skin was pale and yellow. His consciousness came only in short bursts, when his mind couldn’t handle sleep any longer.  
It was driving John Marston mad. Arthur was the closest he had ever had to a true brother, while the rest of the gang was close to him Arthur had been different. Arthur would moan about saving him, but he always would. He owed Arthur his life twice over.  
John was currently sitting beside the ill ridden man. As he had been for six days now. His head was held in his hands, praying to anyone that would listen. John has gotten little to no sleep, and eaten just as about as well. Every break in Arthur’s meek breathing and John would be to his feet, to breath his own breath in if needed.  
“John,” it was Abigail, this was the third time tonight she had tried to make him leave Arthur’s side.  
“I’m not leaving woman.” John said, for the third time.  
“Please John, just… Just let someone else watch him. You need rest just as much as he does.” Her voice was soft and broken, a twinge of yearning pinged within him, he promptly ignored it.  
“Abigail you know I wouldn’t sleep anyways.” He replied gently, he knew she had good intentions there was no need to get angry.  
“I...I know John, but…*sigh* Can I send Jack in, so you can say goodnight to him?” Abigail brought a hand to the bridge of her nose, knowing she wouldn’t win this battle. John glanced up to her, lack of sleep was evident on both of their faces, he nodded and bowed his head once more.  
A moment later and the short steps of John’s son, sounded just outside the tent. John stood up and moved to meet Jack. John knelt and looked at Jack, Jack looked troubled.  
“What’s wrong boy?” John questioned, Jack’s eyes nervously met John’s.  
“Is Uncle Arthur gonna die?” Jack’s voice piped, John felt fear run down his spine.  
“No! No, Arthur… Arthur is, he’s just sick. A little more time and he’ll be just fine.” John’s voice cracked, as a lump rose to the back of his throat.  
“Who told you that?” John swallowed, Jack shuffled on spot.  
“Mommy says she’s scared, so is papa Hosea… Mr. Kieran and Ms. Tilly both think he’s gonna die.” Jack said, he sounded sure of himself, but saddened at the thought.  
“You can tell that O’driscoll boy he’s a fool, and Ms. Tilly is just like Momma, she’s just scared. It’ll be alright Jack, just… like papa Dutch says, have a little faith!” John cracked a weak smile but Jack giggled a little. John wrapped his son in a hug, pulling him in close to his chest.  
“...John.” A voice rasped behind them. John released the boy, and spun back around. Arthur’s eyes were squinting towards him.  
“Oh Arthur!” John cried, and knelt beside him.  
“John…” Arthur’s voice squeaked again, it was then John noticed fragile tears leaking from Arthur’s eyes.  
“Arthur-,”  
“Shut yer trap Marston. Listen.” Arthur wasn’t delirious, his fingers snaked between John’s. Arthur’s grip was weak, and clammy.  
“I’m gonna… I’m dying Marston.”  
“No-,”  
“Shut up… you, you get your family out of this… This way, you go live better than we do… start a farm, don’t try to be two people at once… you go be free… I’m sorry… I love…” Arthur’s voice faded, his head fell back limply. John felt pain and fear strike his heart.  
“No, no!” John whispered, he brought his fingers to Arthur’s throat.  
A beat.  
Nothing.  
Nothing.  
A final drop of water ran down the left side of Arthur’s face.  
“No.” John mumbled once again, he pressed his ear to Arthur’s silent chest. John sat back on his heels in disbelief. His free hand covered his mouth, his own breath was shaky. A moment passed, only then did John realize tears were pouring down his face. Through the blur of water, he locked his gaze onto Arthur’s eyes. Crystal blue, but dulled. They were empty, and sad. John’s hand reached forward and closed Arthur’s lids softly. His intertwined fingers gripped tightly to Arthur’s, loose grasp.  
“I love… I love you… Arthur… I’m so sorry.” John whispered, he pressed his face to the center of the fallen man’s chest. It was hot from the fever but growing colder with every passing moment. John’s eyes were crushed closed, fiery tears were relentlessly falling. John released his hand from Arthur’s, and lifted his face from his chest. John glanced to Arthur’s face once more, he stood gently and leaned down to meet Arthur’s face. John pressed his lips to the colder moist mouth of the other man. Nothing more than a kiss of broken farewell.  
“I’ll you again someday, my brother.” John sobbed near silently, before rising once again. John shuffled out of the camp, it had to be near eleven. The sky above was starless, but the moon managed to peek out from behind the thick clouds.  
John ran a hand through his matted hair, and bit his lip. The pain currently striking his heart was near unbearable. He walked limply towards Dutch’s tent.  
“Dutch.” He grumbled, praying for no answer, praying for this to be some awful dream.  
“What, what John?” Dutch’s sleep filled reply struck John like a train. Dutch opened the flap of his tent, John felt like his knees were going to fail him.  
“It’s-it… Arthur he’s… I don’t-,” John crumbled onto Dutch, Dutch was the closest John and Arthur had ever had to a father. Him and Hosea practically raised the two boys.  
“Arthur…” Dutch said slowly, John was pressed close between his arms. John nodded and wrapped his own arms around Dutch. He sobbed into Dutch’s shoulder. Dutch felt tears of pain rise to his eyes, they began to slip down his tanned cheeks.  
“John, I… I’m so sorry.” Dutch whispered, rubbing the younger man’s back.  
“We gotta-we gotta tell Hosea.” John whimpered, his legs regained composer, he stood and gently released Dutch.  
“I know my boy, I know. You go get some rest son, I’ll break it to him.” Dutch released John, both men knew how Hosea would react. The blow would kill the older man, he wouldn’t speak or eat for days. Hell. No one would.  
Two days passed, Charles was gone from camp with Arthur’s body, off burying it. John had requested the spot, a pretty hillside with a grand view of the sunrise.  
Everyday seemed to grow more bleak, Hosea and Dutch had had nothing but each others company, per their request.  
John.  
John was beaten to hell. His eyes were sunken and gray, skin pasty. Everyone who tried to speak to him was pushed away quickly, just as was any food offered.  
Hosea left the company of Dutch one evening, the three of them had looked more like ghosts than people for nearly a week now.  
“John.” Hosea approached John from behind. John was laying on his cot, he cringed when the light was let in.  
“Go away.” John said shortly.  
“No, I don’t think I will.” Hosea’s soft voice replied.  
“Get out!” John insisted, his voice was mad, but Hosea saw right through it.  
“John…”  
“I just… don’t wanna talk.”  
“Please son, we’re grieving, you don’t have to do this alone.”  
“It’s different for me.”  
“I know, you two were just short of brothers. You and him were something special alright. The pair of you could handle any job no matter the risk.” Hosea’s voice cracked.  
“Son you gotta come out, just eat something.”  
“No-,”  
“We can’t lose you too.” This shut John up.  
“Dutch and I can’t lose another, especially not you, John. Not you.” Hosea had tears streaming down his face, John was the same.  
“You don’t gotta be okay, hell none of us are, we won’t be okay for a long while, but you can’t just waste away. We lose you soon all of us will be lost.”  
John sat up to face Hosea, the two men embraced gently.  
“I just, don’t think I can ever be okay. Hosea-,”  
“Son, it’ll never be okay again, it’ll only be further away, and easier to deal with.”  
John understood, he stood and helped Hosea up, together they walked into the light.


End file.
